Ivan felt and showed real sorrow. Of the two companions of his youth, Leon had been his favourite, and he could not hear unmoved the tidings of his death. “Death--death everywhere,” he murmured sadly. “Come, my friend,” said Adrian kindly, “you must not give way. It is only the fate of war. You have been so long in that horrible den of a city that your nerves are shattered. Take some more wine.” “That horrible den!” Ivan repeated. “A lair of wild beasts! Such it has been indeed. The count, who is as hard as _this_,” laying his hand upon Adrian’s iron camp-bedstead, “has been asking me for reports and descriptions. I cannot describe, I can scarcely even report facts. Picture to yourself nine-tenths of the town in ashes--or in charred blackened ruins--with thousands of the wretched inhabitants, who could not, or did not, make good their escape, wandering about homeless and starving, filling the air with their lamentations. Then think of the French, like a host of demons turned loose upon their prey, ransacking the smoking ruins in search of plunder. I have seen the gold-laced uniform of the general and the woollen jacket of the private side by side, contending for the spoils of our desolated homes; while all the dangerous classes, all the thieves and ruffians who are to be found amongst the scum of the populace in every great city, joined them in the horrible work and added to the confusion and misery.” “Did not Napoleon shoot or hang a great number of our people?” “If you call three hundred a great number; so many at least he executed as incendiaries--and indeed most of them were taken in the act. They died in silence, without asking for mercy, and without accusing any one as having instigated them to the deed.” “How did _you_ escape?” asked Adrian. “There was little difficulty in escaping. It was easy enough to hide in the ruins or in the cellars, many of which had been left well stocked with provisions when the city was abandoned. But have you heard about our wounded men?” he asked, with a return of animation, and even of something like cheerfulness. “No; I have heard nothing.” “The count was obliged to leave two thousand men, who were too desperately wounded to bear removal, concealed in the cellars of the city. Here they managed to drag on their lives, though in a state of extreme wretchedness. We found them out, and used to bring them food and other comforts. That work was even more hazardous than setting the city on fire; for discovery would have cost, not our lives alone, but theirs. Napoleon’s last act before he left the city was to order ten sick men, found in a cellar, to be shot.” “Wretch!” cried Adrian, clenching his hand.